


call to motion

by PaintedVanilla



Series: play the game [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Bubble Bath, Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Drunken Shenanigans, Established Relationship, M/M, Moving In Together, serious conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintedVanilla/pseuds/PaintedVanilla
Summary: you are a call to motionthere, all of you a verb in perfect viewlike jonah on the oceanwhen you move, i'm movedaziraphale gets a late night call from crowley, and is a little surprised by his inebriated request. nevertheless, he indulges him, and the event leads to a more serious discussion on the cusp of their one year anniversary.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: play the game [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563577
Comments: 17
Kudos: 210





	call to motion

Saturday, September 21, 1991

11:36 P.M.

Soho, London

* * *

Aziraphale is nearly to the end of chapter thirteen of his book— at which point he swears he will put it down and go to bed— when the phone rings. It startles him, distant as the sound is coming from the kitchen, just because he wasn’t expecting to hear it. He checks the clock on the wall next to his bed; he’s sure no telemarketer would call at such an hour, and if they did, he would have to give them a stern talking to, but he’s fairly certain that’s not who’s calling. 

He bookmarks his book and sets it on the nightstand, grabbing his robe and walking out into the kitchen to grab the phone off the wall. “Hello?”

“Oh,” comes the sound of Crowley’s voice. “Hello. I didn’t think you’d _ansswer_ that quick. You picked up on the _firsst_ try.”

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asks before anything else. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, _that’ss_ why I didn’t think you’d pick up,” Crowley says, as though it were obvious.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asks again, not satisfied with his answer.

“Oh, yeah,” Crowley says casually. “Good. Great, even. _Fantasstic_.”

Aziraphale catches the lisp, then. He frowns. “Are you drunk? Or just very tired?”

“Oh, I’m drunk,” Crowley says immediately.

“Was Anathema over?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been alone all night,” Crowley continues. “ _J_ _usst_ felt like getting drunk. Had a _glass_ of wine. Many. How many _glassess_ is a bottle of wine?”

“You drank an _entire_ bottle of wine?” Aziraphale asks.

“Oh, calm down,” Crowley insists. “ _It’ss_ not like it _wass_ one of your— one of your vintage _winess_ that _cosstss_ a _thoussand_ _poundss_ or anything like that. It _wass_ _jusst—_ it _wass_ like a £12 bottle of _rossé_.”

“I didn’t know you liked rosé,” Aziraphale comments.

“Angel, _pleasse_ , you know I have a _ssweet_ tooth from here to Cambridge,” Crowley says as seriously as he can muster. “But _anywayss_ , _that’ss_ not why I called.”

“Oh, alright,” Aziraphale says, playing along. “So why did you call?”

“You have a bathtub, right?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I use it?”

Aziraphale blinks. “What, right now?”

“Yeah.”

Aziraphale makes an amused noise. “Anthony, you have your own shower.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a _bathtub,_ ” he points out, as though that explains everything. 

“Why do you want to use my bathtub?” Aziraphale asks.

“ _Becausse_ I want to take a bath,” Crowley whines. “I’m winding down from wedding _sseasson_. Why do you think I _wass_ getting drunk? I’m trying to relax. I’ve been trying to figure out how to _assk_ to _usse_ your bath for _agess_.”

Aziraphale hums doubtfully. “Well, you’re welcome to use my bath anytime, my dear, but I’m not about to let you drive over here drunk.”

“I wouldn’t drive,” Crowley scoffs. “I’m not _sstupid_. I _wass_ gonna take the _buss_.”

Aziraphale sighs. He checks the clock again. “I suppose it would really make your night if I agreed, wouldn’t it?”

“Angel, it would make my whole year,” Crowley promises him.

“Hmm,” Aziraphale says, drawing the sound out. “Alright. But you’ll have to stay the night after you get through. It’s already late.”

“You _ssay_ that like _it’ss_ _sso_ terrible,” Crowley teases.

* * *

Sunday, September 22, 1991

12:03 A.M.

Soho, London

* * *

Aziraphale goes downstairs and turns his lamp that sits on the counter on, and then he unlocks the door and he waits. Crowley arrives in a drunken stupor, which is about what Aziraphale was expecting; he tries to open to door by pulling on it, even though it’s always opened inward. Aziraphale has to open it for him.

“Oh,” Crowley says, seemingly amazed. “ _Hass_ it _alwayss_ been a push door?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says quickly, eager to ask his next question. “What on Earth are you _wearing_?”

Crowley looks down at himself. “My robe.”

“What are wearing _under it_?” Aziraphale asks, taking him by his arm and ushering him further into the shop.

Crowley stumbles a bit trying to keep up. “My underwear.”

“Do you have on a _shirt_?”

“No.”

“Anthony…” Aziraphale says, exasperated. “Sweetheart, you were on the bus. You don’t like it when people look at you—”

“Nuh,” Crowey says, stopping as they reach the bottom of the stairs. “I do like it when people look at me _becausse_ I’m very _nicce_ to look at.”

Aziraphale sighs. “Fine. Fair point.” He takes the bottle Crowley has been holding out of his hands. “What’s this?”

“Bubble bath.”

Aziraphale couldn’t fight off his fond smile even if he wanted to. “Alright,” he says, taking Crowley’s arm again. “Come upstairs. I’ll draw you a bath. You have to leave the door cracked open, though, so I can save you if you fall asleep.”

“Ngk,” Crowley says, being led up the stairs. “No peeking, though.”

“I thought you were nice to look at?” Aziraphale teases.

“Not naked though,” Crowley whines. “I mean— I am _nicce_ to look at naked— _jusst—_ not yet…”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “I’m sure you are, darling. I promise not to look.”

* * *

Sunday, September 22, 1991

1:17 A.M.

Soho, London

* * *

Aziraphale is finishing chapter seventeen of his book when Crowley comes slithering out of the bathroom, clad only in his underwear. 

“Ah,” he says fondly. He bookmarks his book and sets it on the nightstand. “Did you have a good bath, dearest?”

“Mm,” Crowley says.

“Did you drain the tub?” Aziraphale asks, watching him wander closer to the bed.

“Mhm,” Crowley says. He flops down onto the foot of the bed quite unceremoniously. The sight makes Aziraphale giggle.

“Come here,” he says, reaching down so he can tug at Crowley’s arm. He grunts in response, unmoving. “You can’t sleep at the foot of the bed, Anthony.”

“Try and _sstop_ me,” Crowley slurs, his words muffled as he speaks them into the blanket. 

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, then pushes the blanket back and climbs out of bed. He positions himself just above Crowley and loops his arms under his, pulling him up onto his feet. “Climb into bed properly, now. There’s a love.”

Crowley erupts into a fit of giggles, still being held up by him. “You’re quite _sstrong_ ,” he says through his laughing. “Bet you could pick me up…”

Aziraphale huffs, trying to hide how amused he is. “Very well,” he says, letting go of one of his arms and reaching down with his now free hand to scoop him up at his knees. He lifts him up very briefly before dropping him down onto the bed. 

Crowley squeals, laughing harder as he lands on the mattress. He rolls over so he’s laying on his back. “Can we do that again?”

“Maybe in the morning,” Aziraphale says, crawling back into bed. “Right now it’s time to go to sleep.”

He waits until Crowley has managed to squirm his way under the covers, and then he turns his lamp off. Crowley crawls up next to him and folds himself into his side, wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Love you…”

“I love you, too,” Aziraphale says, returning the gesture and wrapping an arm around him to hold him. “Goodnight, my dear.”

Crowley makes a noise that might be his attempt at saying “goodnight angel,” but he’s already asleep.

* * *

Sunday, September 22, 1991

9:58 A.M.

Soho, London

* * *

Crowley comes to slowly, squirming against Aziraphale’s side and leaning against him, groaning. Aziraphale hums; he’s been awake for a while, mostly just dozing, not wanting to get out of bed because Crowley is so nice to snuggle with.

He stretches, groaning again as he comes to. He sniffs, his eyes cracking open, and a lazy smile crawls onto Aziraphale’s face. “You sleep quite late when you’re left to it.”

Crowley hums, turning his head to look at him and immediately grinning. “Well _you’re_ still in bed with me.”

“Only because you cling like a python,” Aziraphale retorts.

“Shut up, you love it,” Crowley says, rolling over so he’s practically on top of him and giving him a kiss. Aziraphale sighs, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist, content to hold him there. 

Crowley breaks the kiss, leaning over him and smiling warmly. After a moment, though, it slips off his face, replaced by a frown. He looks confused. “… How did I get here?”

“On the bus,” Aziraphale tells him simply.

Crowley frowns harder, glancing around the room. “… _Why_ am I here?”

“What, wanting to see your boyfriend isn’t enough of a reason?” Aziraphale teases.

Crowley blushes. “No,” he says sheepishly, then blushes harder. “I mean— yes, of course it is, but— is that why I came over?”

“What’s the last thing you remember doing?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley thinks. “I… got home from work. I’d stopped by the store to get a bottle of wine.”

“Rosé,” Aziraphale reminds him.

Crowley manages to look even more embarrassed. “Was it?”

“So you said.”

“Huh,” Crowley says, attempting to play it cool. “That’s weird… considering I don’t really, er, like sweet wines…”

“Is that so?" Aziraphale asks, grinning smugly. “Because I seem to recall last night you declared you had a sweet tooth from here to Cambridge.”

Crowley looks as though he wants to melt into the mattress. “Did I say that?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh…”

Aziraphale chuckles. “I don’t know why you’re acting embarrassed over your sweet tooth, darling. You’re dating _me_.”

“I don’t have a sweet tooth…”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, rolling his eyes. “Anyway— you were telling me? The last thing you remember?”

Crowley clears his throat awkwardly. “I was laying on my couch. I think I was starting to doze off. I thought I was going to sleep. I was thinking about how I probably needed to shower because I still smelled like spit and I thought I was gonna get up to go do that. But I don’t remember what I ended up doing.”

“Well, evidently you wanted to take a bath,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley frowns. “What? Why do you say that?”

“Because you called at nearly midnight asking if you could use mine.”

Crowley looks absolutely mortified. “I didn’t.”

“You did,” Aziraphale says, grinning. “Now let me ask you how you feel about this, because you seemed very lax about it last night— you rode the bus over in nothing but your boxers and your robe.”

Crowley rolls off Aziraphale and lands face first on the bed, hiding his face in a pillow. He makes a muffled sound of agony, then lifts his head. “Please tell me I at least had it tied.”

“Loosely.”

“I’m gonna cry,” Crowley declares, pressing his face back into the pillow.

“I promise you I did express concern,” Aziraphale tells him. “But you were very insistent that you’re nice to look at. Which I don’t disagree with, of course, but I know you get nervous when too many people start looking at you. You didn’t seem very bothered by it last night, though, so I just let you take your bath.”

“You _let me_ take a bath?!” Crowley exclaims, lifting his head again. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to tell you no, after you’d just made it all the way here.”

“You should have just told me to go to sleep!”

“Oh, but you were being rather charming.”

Crowley drops his face back into the pillow and makes another agonized noise. Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Please stop being so dramatic, Anthony. It was a very charming encounter. You’re welcome to use my bath anytime.”

He leans over to place a kiss on top of his head, and then he pushes the covers back and climbs out of bed. He grabs his robe and slips it on. “I’m going to make tea. Do you want any, my love?”

“Ngk,” Crowley says into the pillow.

“I have ginger tea,” Aziraphale says sweetly. “Might help with the headache you must have after having a whole bottle of rosé to yourself.”

Crowley hesitates. “Yes, please,” he finally says, his face still buried in the pillow.

* * *

Sunday, September 22, 1991

10:24 A.M.

Soho, London

* * *

When Aziraphale comes back in him room, Crowley has unearthed his face from his pillow. He’s resting his head on his hand and staring very thoughtfully at the wall. He doesn’t look up at Aziraphale until he sets the mugs down on his nightstand and moves to crawl back into bed.

Crowley shifts to make room for him, sitting up and leaning against the headboard so he can actually drink his tea. Aziraphale hands it to him without saying anything, and Crowley blows some of the steam away and takes a tentative sip.

They sit in silence for a minute, before Crowley begins tentatively. “Angel?”

“Mhm?” Aziraphale answers, in the middle of taking a sip.

Crowley swallows nervously. “I’ve been… thinking.”

“About what?” Aziraphale asks, looking at him with his full attention now.

“Er,” Crowley says, gazing up at the ceiling as though it fascinates him. “Well, see, the thing is, I, er… well, we spend an awful lot of time together.”

Aziraphale considers this. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Right,” Crowley says. “And I feel like— well, I feel like we end up spending the night together more often than not. Which is fine! It’s— more than fine, I… I like sharing a bed with you. It’s just, er, I mean I was just thinking, and… you know we’ll have been together a year on the twenty-eighth?”

“Of course I know,” Aziraphale says fondly. “I would never forget. I have it marked on my calendar.”

That makes Crowley smile. “Right. Well. Me too. And I know… I know a year isn’t that long of a time to start making, er, _big_ decisions, it’s just… we _are_ together an awful lot. We usually spend the weekends together, and even then, that tends to bleed into the week one direction or another. And your… offer of letting me use your bath _anytime_ just… made me think.”

“So you’ve said,” Aziraphale teases. “Many times, now. Though you’ve yet to actually articulate exactly what you’re thinking _about_.”

Crowley bites his lip. “My lease is up at the end of the year,” he says. “And if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t really mind… not renewing it.”

Aziraphale has a warm look about him. “Are you suggesting we move in together?”

“Only if you’re comfortable with the idea,” Crowley tells him. “I can swing either way.”

Aziraphale suddenly adopts a very somber look. “Anthony, the Bible is very clear that living together out of wedlock is a form of sexual immorality.”

Crowley’s eyes go wide. “I— er— _er—_ ”

“Anthony, I’m teasing,” Aziraphale rushes to assure him, placing a hand on his knee. “I’m just teasing.”

“Oh, my God,” Crowley says, clearly startled. “I thought you were being so serious, holy shit.”

“I’m sorry, it was an ill timed joke,” Aziraphale says, though he’s unable to wipe the smile off his face. “In all seriousness, I’m quite fond of the idea.”

Crowley glances at him nervously. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale says. “Obviously, there’s much more to discuss about it, but I think that’s a conversation for when we’re both a bit more awake and you’re not hungover.”

“‘M not hungover,” Crowley grumbles, taking a sip of his tea.

“Ah, so then you wouldn’t mind if I opened the curtains to let some light in?” Aziraphale asks smugly.

Crowley glances nervously at the window, then throws a glare back at Aziraphale. “Bastard.”

“You’re the one willing to move in with me.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not a bastard.”

“Finish your tea, my sweet.”

**Author's Note:**

> something short and sweet for now :0) i'm working on a longer piece at the moment. my stretch goal is 20k but who knows where i might end up. looking to have it posted shortly after the new year, but we'll see how it goes, since i'm going to be out of town and i'm getting my wisdom teeth removed just after the new year (yikes). 
> 
> as always thank you for reading, and please leave a comment if you enjoyed!! you can find me on [tumblr](https://paintedvanilla.tumblr.com/) :0)


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